Raphael Gouws Poems

Night air biting.
Concrete cold under my shoes.
City lights stretching out like they're trying to pull me in —
but they don't care if I land or shatter.
...

The wind licks at my face,
cold and sharp,
like the truths I've been trying not to taste.
...

Some days,
the weight hits before I'm even awake,
like the night never really ended.
Just a new shade of black.
...

Dear me,

I try to cry tonight.
I press my hands to my face,
...

I'm so fucking tired.
Not sleepy tired —
dead tired.
Tired of fighting I don't want to fight anymore,
...

Dear diary,
if I can still call this that,
today I'm just… here.
Not living, not dying,
...

There is a room no one enters,
not because it is locked,
but because I learned long ago
to smile at the door.
...